Lover I Don't Have to Love
by 123Quarters
Summary: When everyone else is gone, the last tributes must learn to cope in whatever way they can. Mental health be damned. 1st chapter is a drabble, the rest is not.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_I only ever write _Harry Potter_ things, but hey, here this is. My _Hunger Games_ OTP is Peeta/Katniss, but I cannot get over the idea of Katniss and Finnick. I love him. This is just a drabble that may turn into more later when it's not the first month back at college and I don't have a Dramione story kicking my ass.

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><p><em><strong>Lover I Don't Have to Love<strong>_

_"I want a lover I don't have to love._

_I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck._

_I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk."-Bright Eyes_

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><p>"They're gone- for now or forever. One way or another, it's just you and me now, girl on fire."<p>

I can't take my eyes off him as I wait for that feeling that overwhelmed me the first time I met him in the Capitol- utter disgust. I wait and wait, staring into those blue eyes that have captivated all of Panem for years. I wait, and the disgust never shows up.

It will not show up, no matter how long I wait.

This is not Finnick Odair, District 4 tribute and Capital heart-throb, flirting to unbalance me before we fight to the death.

This is Finnick, who only ever loved Annie and risked his life for Peeta and went just as mad as me when the world fell apart.

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, my voice just as tired as my mind. I cannot imagine anything that will numb the pain- erase, even for a moment, all the times Peeta has died for me, all the times Gale and Prim and Haymitch and my mother have been lost forever.

He does not answer.

Or maybe, in the most Finnickesque way, he does.

In that sense, his argument is foolproof, oddly sound for someone as seemingly vapid as Finnick Odair. I don't know why I expected words. Words are not Finnick. Words are Peeta.

But I can't think of Peeta with Finnick's lips pressed against mine.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS **_Tralalala I don't know what I'm doing. This takes place in _Mockingjay_ when Gale and the others go to save Peeta and the other tributes from the Capitol and leave Katniss and Finnick behind. The reviews I've gotten commented on a lack of Finnick/Katniss stories, so I thought I'd continue/elaborate upon my drabble just to give Katnick/Finniss shippers something to read. Like I said, I don't know what I'm doing. When I wrote the drabble, I didn't know Finnick died. I was pretty sure he was going to live and Peeta was going to die (not that I wanted that to happen). I don't know, guys, I don't know. I'm still in emotional overdrive from finishing the series.

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><p><em><strong>Lover I Don't Have to Love<strong>_

_"Every time you feel like crying  
>I'm gonna try to make you laugh<br>And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad  
>Then we'll wait for it to pass<br>And I will keep you company  
>Through those days so long and black"- Bright Eyes<em>

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><p>I don't know why it takes so long to sink in- but finally, it does. Sitting next to a knot-tying Finnick Odair in the subterranean hummingbird haven of District 13, surrounded by artificial sunlight and beautiful plants that probably don't exist anywhere outside of this steel and stone sanctuary, I understand that I am within hours of losing both Peeta and Gale- for certain, this time.<p>

I feel myself shutting down as the realization hits me, and I'm powerless to stop it. Finnick's words from the previous night seep into my mind, fighting the fog of terror and trying to force me to be strong, just a little longer. My brain can't seem to piece his advice into a coherent sentence. I just see flashes of his lips moving, the rope undulating in his skilled hands like a live snake.

I am back in that hazy brown half-light that is somehow so much worse than actual darkness, and there is nothing to distract me from the memory of Peeta's eyes seconds before his blood spattered every television screen in Panem. I am waiting for the Capitol's bombs to come and wipe us from the face of the earth, leave us with a blank slate.

Though I can't remember Finnick's words, Peeta's first interview with President Snow is instantly at the forefront of my mind. Something about killing all the humans off and letting a better species have the planet.

That sounds reasonable now. I can't understand why I was so outraged back then.

Dead with Peeta, dead with Prim and Gale and Haymitch and lovely Cinna who was so determined to change this world-

Reality breaks through the dream haze as something rough and warm is pushed into my hands, my fingers forced to close around the scratchy fibers. It takes a moment for the imagined cremated ashes of my loved ones to fade from my vision and allow me to see the ragged bit of rope Finnick has given me.

His eyes are not hollow and mad, but intense. I have not seen this Finnick since the Games.

"Ten times as long to put yourself back together," he says quietly, nudging my loosely clenched fist so that I must focus on the rope.

"Ten times," I echo, twisting the rope lamely between my fingers. The simple knot I make looks laughable and pathetic next to the works of art that Finnick can create without even paying attention. I hold it up for his inspection as I would to Buttercup.

Much like Buttercup, he seems unimpressed with my attempt.

"The point is to take your mind off of things," Finnick explains patiently. He takes the failed knot from my hands and undoes it with one tug. "You have to focus on this, and only this, or you're going to lose yourself." I watch with a sort of numb amazement as his large hands with their fisherman scars dance with the frayed bit of rope and turn it into something I cannot even comprehend. In a matter of seconds, he is handing me the unbelievably complicated knot.

I think, if we were in another time, he might even have laughed at the dumbstruck look on my face.

"Untie it," he orders, and I stare at the knot for a long time, not even thinking of untying it but trying to understand how it was made. After a few long moments, Finnick gently takes the rope back and gives a strategic pull- the knot falls away, leaving just the scrap of rope.

"Here, watch," he says, leaning forward and holding the rope between us. I do watch, because it is fascinating. He should be nothing but brute strength and strange, misplaced sexual advances. He is not. He is a genius.

"Every knot can by undone be retracing its path-" he explains, indicating with one finger the frayed end of the rope protruding from the bottom of the current knot. "Every knot has a weakness. You find it, and you can undo any knot, easy as that." The statement is emphasized when he forces my hand to pull on the rope end, undoing the knot with ease.

"Make another one," I demand. This is good. This is engaging. Whether I understand the knotwork or just watch his hands twisting the rope, I am distracted. It is working.

Finnick actually does smile. "Alright, watch carefully." His sea-colored eyes meet mine for a moment, making sure I am still there, still present in some way. He is content that I am not lost yet.

I retrain my eyes on his fingers-

and instantly I am lost. There is no point in watching carefully. It is like watching Gale set a snare or Peeta create camouflage- impossible to follow or understand. His fingers are a blur, speeding and shaping and tying and then he is holding it out for my inspection and I can only stare, bewildered.

"Untie it," he orders again, but I can see the hint of mischief in his eyes.

I take the knot carefully, spinning it around in my hands. I study every fiber, take minutes upon minutes, but it is no use. I cannot find the rope ends.

Finnick is watching me with as much interest as I am watching the knot- as if I expect it to start speaking to me. Frustrated, I glare at the knot for a long while, and then I glare at Finnick just because.

His lips pull back from his teeth in a deep belly laugh, and I notice the way the skin around his eyes crinkles and the small dimple that forms on one side of his mouth. I am struck by something.

"They didn't fix you."

Finnick blinks at me, eyebrows raised as if I've just asked him a riddle.

"Katniss, there's only so much they can do to fix my '_mental instability'_, but you of all people should understand-"

I wave the knot in his face, pointing at him and trying to shush him all at once. "No, no, no, your face. Cinna told me that they surgically alter almost all of the victor's these days." I squinted at his skin, making sure I was right- yes, his skin was dark from the sun, not Capitol body paint. "That's your real face. This is really just how you look."

He looks insulted. "_Just how I look? _You didn't seem to be complaining about _just how I look _when I stripped down in the hallway earlier!"

My cheeks catch fire, but I ignore it. "That's not what I mean! I just thought you must have been…fixed, because people aren't just _born _looking the way you do."

"I beg to differ," Finnick says, but there's an air of smugness about him, the way his lips twitch up the tiniest bit at the corners. "But flattery will get you nowhere, girl on fire. You still have to untie the knot."

I wonder if Finnick is really concerned about whether or not people think he is attractive. Maybe he just wants to look handsome for Annie. The knot is still impenetrable in my hands. Frustration takes over, and I throw the rope back in Finnick's lap.

"I can't do it. There are no ends."

The knot is immediately forced back in my hands, and Finnick's gaze is intense as he glares at me.

"Think, Katniss. Think. There's more than one way to skin a cat."

That expression irritates me, because really there _is_ only one efficient way to skin a cat- I learned that in the long winter after my father died. The memory is unpleasant, so I fix all my concentration on the damned knot.

A ball of rope, ends indistinguishable from the knot itself.

I see the solution.

So simple, I want to laugh and scream at the same time.

I tear at the knot with my teeth, severing the tie and leaving ruined fibers scattered in the grass around us. There is no knot. There is no rope. I have won.

Then I realize I have destroyed Finnick's connection to sanity, and look up with panic in my eyes. For a moment, I think I must have instantly driven him mad because he is grinning broadly.

But no, that is a genuine smile.

"Good work, girl on fire. You did it."

"There was a better way though, wasn't there?" I ask, feeling guilty.

He shakes his head. "If there was, I don't know it. My father taught me that knot when I was just a little kid- called it a Gordian knot. The only way to solve it is to tear it apart."

Feeling better, I return his grin, though the happy expression feels somewhat foreign on my face. I think my own smile must look like something you wear to a funeral compared to the one on Finnick's lips, but I don't say that aloud.

"What do we do now?" I ask, because it can't stay quiet for long. That would give me time to think of- no, I pull myself back and study Finnick as closely as I dare. Messy bronze hair and skin that has retained the sun, even in this subterranean prison. Eyes that change like the sea and hands that have worked enough to hold calluses and tiny fishhook scars. I think suddenly that he may be the only person in the world that still looks decent in the awful gray and shapeless 13 uniforms. Yes, Finnick is attractive, with a nice smile-

Peeta.

Even without thinking of him, he is there in the forefront again- the first smile I remember. Everything is so long ago, and I can only remember Peeta, smiling at me with his dirty face and blood everywhere and he was beautiful, too, wasn't he- yes, so beautiful and so warm and so much better than everyone but he'd never know that unless you told him. My chest aches and there is a strange choking noise that must be coming from me but I can't fix it. I can't. Ten times as long. Ten times as long. Ten times as long.

"When they bring him back, you have to be whole."

Peeta's face with the grotesque smile wavers and I am staring into Finnick's eyes with a look of horror plastered on my face.

"He will need you to be whole, and he will need you here." Finnick's voice is strong and I cling to it. "You have to find a way to hold on a little longer, Katniss. Just until they get back. Just a few more hours. We just have to find something to focus on- something to keep us together."

I force my breathing to level out, not allowing my eyes to leave Finnick's for a single second.

As he watches me, Finnick's eyes glaze over for a split second, but before I even have time to react he's back with me, an expression on his face that I don't understand. It makes my stomach swoop and blood rise to my face. My skin feels hot, and he is still watching me like a hawk, this boy from the sea. When he finally speaks, it sends shivers down my spine.

"Let's trade secrets."


End file.
